


Boundaries

by fizzysplosion



Series: Lust and Loathing [3]
Category: Dragon Age
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-06-20
Updated: 2011-06-20
Packaged: 2017-10-20 14:27:46
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 15,366
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/213737
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fizzysplosion/pseuds/fizzysplosion
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Written for this kink meme request:</p><p>"Fenris has had enough of Anders' constant complaining. The mage has NO IDEA what having no freedom really means, and the former slave decides to show him. Somehow he convinces Anders to be his slave for a week, and treats him just like a magister would treat his pet."</p>
            </blockquote>





	Boundaries

**Title:** Boundaries  
 **Pairing** Anders/Fenris  
 **Rating:** 18+/Adults Only/NC-17  
 **Word count:** 15, 344  
 **Warnings:** Violence, references to slavery and Templar abuse, master/slave roleplay.

 **Boundaries**

Anders pushed open the door to Fenris' mansion. Ha, he knew he was lying about the magebane. He should really lock his doors though. Some unscrupulous elf might wander in and decide to squat here. Anders wrinkled his nose as the smell hit him. It was like... That incredibly acrid rose petal perfume Wynne would teach the younger mages to make. Anders had been given a fair few bottles by infatuated twelve-year-olds. He gagged as he realised what it actually was. Decay, but not so pleasant as that of a few rose petals in water. Fenris hadn't even scraped the guard's corpses off the floor and they were getting very...wriggly. Anders froze them as he passed to kill the infestation then set them on fire, until there was nothing more offensive than a few puddles of water. Really, it was unhygienic. Didn't Fenris know the kinds of things he could catch from living like this?

 _I must protest again_ , Justice said.

"Yes, yes. We mustn't do anything to upset your precious Fenris but I only know two elves and I'm not asking Merrill."

 _Merrill is also a mage. She will understand._

"A blood mage and a little, frail one at that. Asking her is a stupid idea. Anyway, I haven't exactly given her reason to help me."

 _No you have not._

"Are you sure you're the spirit of justice and not the spirit of guilt trips?"

 _The guilt is your own._

Anders made his way up the stairs. When he reached the landing, Fenris burst out of the room at the top with a battle cry. He leapt onto Anders, knocking him to the floor. He landed straddled on top of him, hefting a half-full wine bottle overhead. Anders stared up at him. Fenris wasn't wearing his usual armour. Instead, he wore an overlarge jerkin that had fallen off his right shoulder. The site of a bare shoulder shouldn't be so fixating but there was a silver-white lyrium etching there creeping up from his chest that contrasted strikingly with his tan skin. That shoulder was begging to be marked with more than lyrium. When Anders finally drew his eyes away from that, Fenris' face was a little flushed and his eyes bleary. Anders tried to form a coherent thought but it was very, very obvious from this position that there was nothing underneath Fenris' jerkin. He could feel the powerful muscles of Fenris' thighs and buttocks clamping over his lap, separated from his skin by only the material of his coat. Drunken, dishevelled Fenris... straddling him... It would take a more valiant, straighter man not to harden at the very thought.

"Anders?" Fenris said, notably not relinquishing the heavy wine bottle.

"Hello," Anders said, in a cheery tone of voice that he hoped reflected his desire not to be bashed over the head with a wine bottle.

"I thought I was clear when I told you not to enter my home."

"It's not technically your home though, is it?"

Fenris jumped to his feet. He uncorked his wine and took a gulp. Anders rose to his feet as well. He half-contemplated standing on his tiptoes so he could tower over Fenris and his elfin stature but decided the grumblings from Justice in the back of his head weren't worth it. He did get a good look at Fenris' bare legs though, where hem of the jerkin skimmed his thighs.

"Avert your eyes," Fenris snapped.

"Stop giving my eyes so much to look at," Anders said. "What is that you're drinking anyway? It smells like somebody battered a grape until it was alcoholic."

Fenris popped the neck of the bottle from his mouth and stared at the label. He frowned in concentration and mouthed the words.

"Orzammar's... Deep... Gulp, no, Gull..Gullet... Stroker."

"The fancy stuff then. Maker, don't buy wine from Lowtown. It'll burn a hole in the bottom of your stomach."

"We are not all delicate mages."

"At least I can read."

 _A cheap shot._

"Yet another advantage you gained from your allegedly oppressive Circle Tower. What do you want?"

"I need your help."

"You," Fenris jabbed the base of the wine bottle at him. "Have invaded my home, to ask for my help?"

"Yes-"

"No."

"Before you dismiss me outright, listen to what I have to say. I was just at the alienage treating a few patients there and it's abuzz with talk of another rogue Templar-"

"You want my help with your insane cause?"

"Will you just listen? It's not about mages, this time. It's the elves. This Templar's been harrassing them. He's been trying to use his standing as a Templar to get them into his bed or he's been offering a few coin here and there for it. He gets extremely violent when they refuse. You have no idea what I've had to treat tonight, Fenris. One of the boys had a broken spine. This Templar figured that if he couldn't fuck him, he'd make sure he couldn't enjoy anything else in life. He mutilated a girl's face. Aveline wants to help but she says she needs proof. It'll go to court without it and no one on a damned jury will believe a few alienage elves over a high-ranking Templar. And he's only mutilating them now. Imagine what he'll do after a few more days without any comeuppance. Not to mention, we know an alienage elf. She might be a blood mage but you've seen how she is. If he offers to show her some kittens, she'll follow him into an alleyway and I just thought that since you're an elf as well you might have even a passing interest in preventing them getting abused or raped."

"What do you need me to do?"

"I want to get him evicted from the order and then hopefully put in prison. If we can get Cullen to witness his depravity, then that'll take care of it nicely."

"You are still being deliberately vague about my role in this."

"Well, you look a lot like an alienage elf in those clothes... A lot of them can't afford much more than a tunic. The Templar's name is Ser Albert and he tends to go for very attractive elves of either gender."

"You are... Planning to use me as bait?"

"Exactly! I have it all arranged. He usually comes to the alienage an hour or so from now. I've sent a missive to Cullen and he should arrive well within time to witness it."

"And what if this Templar bypasses me completely? What makes you think he will approach me when he has a whole alienage full of elves to consider?"

"Because you're like the Urn of Sacred Ashes to pervy elf fanciers. I've slept with you twice, I should know."

 _Crudely put._

Fenris set down his wine on the floor with great care, so it didn't spill. "I am doing this to help the elves," he said. "Not you."

*****

Fenris wondered what he was doing out here, following that fool mage's plan without even the protection of his underclothes. Perhaps that cheap dwarven wine was even stronger than he'd imagined. Fenris tugged the hem of his jerkin further down his knees and yanked it back up as that caused it to fall totally off his shoulder, exposing even more of his chest to the night air. What was he doing? What had he even been thinking? Suppose it was a trap by the mage? What if this templar didn't even exist and he was to be greeted by a band of slavers, nicely presented in an easy to remove garment, and sold again... A young elf squeaked at the sight of Fenris' glare and scurried to its parents'. There was a lot of scurrying going on. The elves were all returning to their homes, slamming their doors, drawing their curtains and generally making themselves scarce.

Fenris looked around wildly. Where had Anders hidden himself? He'd be within his eyeline, sure to be at a fine vantage point to witness his plan come to fruition. Fenris gazed upward, looking for him among the low rooftops.

He returned his gaze to eye level when he heard footsteps. It was a Templar, in full regalia, excluding the visor. He was tall, even for a human, with dirty blond hair like Anders' though it was short and his face wasn't anywhere near as- He did not look like Anders facially. His eyes alighted on Fenris. Ser Albert, Fenris presumed. Fenris ducked his head, trying to look suitably cowed.

Ser Albert's feet appeared in his line of vision, toe-to-toe with his. Fenris looked up at him. He was holding a bronze coin between his thumb and forefinger. Fenris forced his markings under control. A _bronze_? That's all he thought he was worth? In the Imperium the other magisters had offered riches, magical trinkets, land... To be met by a swift death at either Danarius' hands or his own.

"What are you willing to do for this?" Ser Albert said.

"Put your coin away. I will do nothing for you."

Ser Albert chuckled at his impudence. The coin disappeared. He cupped Fenris' chin and tilted his head up to his face. Fenris allowed it, for now. Ser Albert examined him with cold, grey eyes. "Well, aren't you handsome?" he said. His eyes dropped to Fenris' collarbone and then down again to his bare legs. "And masculine, for an elf."

For an elf? Ser Albert was very lucky not to get eviscerated just for that. Fenris settled for an upturned lip as he spoke. "I'm pleased I meet with your approval."

Ser Albert dragged his fingers across the apple of Fenris' cheek. Fenris prickled at the presumption of that touch. If he kept it up, there was going to be little of Ser Albert left to turn over to the Templars.

"There's no need to be so hostile," Ser Albert said. A small smile actually appeared on his lips. "I only want your company and you must want it too. Why else would you be here, dressed like that?"

Ser Albert's fingers crept up to Fenris' brow, until he was cupping the side of his face. He drew Fenris closer to him. Fenris took Ser Albert's wrist and removed the hand from his person. Ser Albert returned his hand to Fenris' bare knee, not discouraged in the slightest. He was still smiling, the bastard, as if he were dealing with nothing more than a wilful and unruly puppy. He slid his hands up Fenris' thigh and Fenris couldn't even react in the blind struggle to keep his brands from lighting up like a beacon. When he righted himself, Ser Albert's fingers were tracing a langurous path over his inner thigh, gauntlets warming on his skin. Muscle memory had taken over where Fenris' conscious thought couldn't and he was pleased to find he had braced a warning hand against Ser Albert's breastplate. One that would have went straight through had his markings been activated. Ser Albert's fingers touched against the hard line that defined the muscles of Fenris' pelvis and dipped into the hollow where his thigh met it. It was so close to his genitalia that Fenris almost divested him of his heart right then. Somehow he managed not to and gave him a two-handed shove instead. That sent him far away enough that he was no longer touching.

"I do not want your company or the company of any of your ilk," Fenris said.

"And why is that?" Ser Albert said. He brought his fingertips to his nose and sniffed them, as if any trace of Fenris' scent could remain on those gauntlets.

Fenris settled back against the wall. Caving in the man's chest was no more than he deserved but there was a certain, ha, justice in what Anders had suggested. Men like these needed to be made an example of. They needed to have their power taken away and to feel the loss of that power for the rest of their worthless lives.

"Perhaps you're not used to hearing the word 'no'," Fenris said. "I have no desire or reason to explain myself. Your company is not wanted. Remove it."

Ser Albert pinched the end of Fenris' left ear between his fingertips and yanked him up onto his tiptoes by it. For some unfathomable reason, Fenris recalled Anders' teeth on the same spot but all thoughts of such acts were chased away as he felt Ser Albert's hot breath on his mouth. The smell on his laboured breath was peppermint and that was wrong. He should be stinking and foul, like the many lecherous old drunks Fenris had to send away from Merrill when Isabella was not there. Fenris struck out with every intention of breaking Ser Albert's jaw but he hadn't been keeping track of the bastard's other hand. He stiffened, spine going ramrod straight as he felt the hand breach his tunic. Ser Albert's palm was squeezing his buttocks, nipping his skin between the plates of his gauntlet. Fenris followed the punch through but let his hand phase where it would have met bone and passed it into his skull. He could feel, in that muted sound-when-underwater way of his powers, the texture of Ser Albert's brain.

"Remove your hand," Fenris instructed.

"Remove yours."

"I am excerising all of my willpower just to stop myself from lobotimising you. Do not tempt me."

Ser Albert extracted his hand from Fenris' rear. "There. Your virtue is safe, madam."

"You genuinely don't think I will kill you, do you?"

"You haven't so far."

Fenris withdrew his phased hand. Ser Albert drew his sword and swept forward, leading with the point of it. Fenris instinctively reached for his own before remembering his attire, or lack thereof. He allowed Ser Albert to back him against the wall. If he wanted to persist when he'd been so adequately warned, then that was his own folly. Although Fenris had to admit he wasn't without some skill. He moved with a speed that belied his bulk. In the same step he had tucked the flat of his blade under Fenris' chin. The edge of the sword rested against his throat, with only enough pressure for Fenris to feel it.

"I don't know what it is about your lot," Ser Albert said. "Maybe those eyes or those pointy little knife-ears. Maybe that you're all so _narrow_."

Fenris wondered which of his organs he should pull out first. Or perhaps he should start with a rib. Yes, he would reach inside him and snap one of his ribs. Then when Ser Albert bent double from the pain, he would tear out his spine and watch him crumple into a jellied heap.

Ser Albert turned his blade and sliced through the front of Fenris' tunic. Fenris snatched it closed but for a moment the middle of his body had been revealed, where the lyrium markings intersected on his chest and spread out to the rest of him.

Anders and his stupid plan be damned! Fenris thrust his fist into Ser Albert's chest.

"What the hell is going on here?"

Cullen had finally decided to arrive. Excellent. He'd be just in time to see Fenris pull this bastard's heart out.

"Albert," Cullen said. "What is going on?"

"This elf is attacking me, Cullen. I thought that was obvious."

"And his clothing came apart by itself, did it? I thought I was quite clear about your duties and how they were not to take you anywhere near the alienage."

"'Plenty of apostates in the alienage."

Cullen turned his attention to Fenris. "You're Hawke's friend, aren't you? I'd be very grateful if you allowed me to deal with him."

Fenris bared his teeth at Ser Albert but he released him. "And just how are you going to deal with him?"

"Don't you worry about that. Meredith won't look to kindly on this, believe me."

Anders chose that moment to appear, staff on his back and looking like he was about to glow. In front of two Templars. Fenris did not believe he would ever stop baffling at the man's stupidity.

"That's it?" Anders said. "You're just going to send him off to Meredith? She'll give him a slap on the wrist at most!"

"I know the Knight Commander much better than you do, evidently."

"That's-"

Everyone's ears picked up another approach. Everyone who still had them drew their weapons.

"Leave the pretty ones alive!"

Slavers! It _was_ a trap and a well-crafted one at that. Not only would Anders be done with Fenris but he'd be rid of two more Templars as well. One of whom was Meredith's right hand man. Not that Fenris intended it to be a successful plan. Fenris struck through the group of slavers as the others collided with them as well. Fenris lit up like a match, lyrium thrumming through his skin, and used his bare hands. Spells and sword blows sounded around him as he tore slavers in half. They made quick work of them. When Fenris was finished with the last of his, he turned. Both he and Cullen were leaning over Ser Albert's body.

"And another dead Templar," Cullen said. "Why do I get the feeling this isn't the last I'll see?"

"Well, I wasn't going to waste my energy on healing him," Anders said.

"Why not? Your little ruse is pointless now, Anders."

"Not really. It's shown you little control you have over those under your command. The liberties they take."

"Is that what you think?" Cullen hoisted the body over his shoulder. "If you really were concerned about the mages under our care, you would come back to the Circle. A mage with your skills could do a lot of good there."

Cullen made his leave with the body. Anders picked his way across what was left of the slavers and stood in front of Fenris. He actually had the gall to look concerned as he flicked his eyes over him.

"I didn't expect him to get so handsy," Anders said. "I was about to step in but then I realised you'd be as likely to kill me as him for presuming that you needed protection from a mage. Fenris? Are you all right?"

"Yes I am. Unfortunately for you."

"Excuse me?"

Fenris grabbed both of Anders shoulders. He lifted him off his feet by them and slammed him against the wall. He held him there with his feet dangling and his eyes wide with shock.

"We just happened to be attacked by slavers, on a night where I am practically alone and unarmed?"

"What are you going on about, Fenris? We're always running into slavers. They're everywhere."

"Why are they _here_?"

"It's an alienage. Use your imagination."

"That is the last thing you should want right now. Where were the guard? Aveline has very strict patrol routes for each of them and they should have passed through here at least once."

"I may have bribed them to stay away so that I could get Cullen to see to it."

"I was alone, being tormented by a Templar with no hope of even the guard coming to my assistance. All of which was your doing. Then I was attacked by slavers."

"What? No! Fenris, all of us were atttacked by slavers. Myself included. I would never-"

"You have attempted it once before. You attempted to convince Hawke to hand me over to Danarius. Don't think I have forgotten that, mage. Don't think that I will ever forget it."

"Fenris, you're being completely insane. Even if I did want to sell you to slavers, which I don't, I don't have those kinds of contacts."

"Yes you do. The mage underground, as you call it. You would know of the people who buy mages from corrupt Templars when they are captured."

"And you think I'd work with them? Get off me, Fenris! You're just being paranoid and you know it too otherwise I wouldn't still be breathing."

Fenris dropped him. Anders fell untidily in a tangle of splaying limbs. It took a few moments for him to compose himself and he spat out a couple of feathers when he finally managed. Fenris narrowed his eyes, not at all softening at the ridiculous display.

"You used me," Fenris said.

"No I didn't. Haven't I just explained that?"

"You manipulated me to make yet another statement about mage rights."

"You're just being paranoid again."

"No I'm not."

" **No he is not**." Anders skin crackled with Fade light and his own dull and brown eyes were replaced with the same glow. " **We should not have done this.** "

Justice tilted the head of the body he inhabited, as if listening to something. Probably Anders bleating away inside him.

" **We have manipulated you too frequently. We have manipulated a great many.** "

"I want nothing to do with you, demon. Bring back the mage."

" **We do not want our body broken again. We will repay you for your grievances in any way you wish. I will ensure that Anders complies. That is justice.** "

"No, it's not. But I will take it all the same."

*****

Fenris collected his wine from where he'd left it. Anders had trailed behind him all the way to his mansion, various expressions flitting over his face as he challenged the parasite that resided within him. It suited Fenris just fine. It meant Anders didn't have the opportunity to harp on about mage rights yet again. Anders was still engaged in the internal conversation when Fenris sat down with his back against the wall. He let the torn tunic pool in his lap to cover himself. He sipped his wine as Anders paced in front of him, gesticulating wildly. Occasionally Fenris wondered if Justice really existed. Perhaps Anders had invented him as an escape from the pressures of his previous existence, using his magic to manifest him in the way a normal man couldn't. He certainly looked mad right now, arguing silently with the voices in his head. Fenris drank down his wine as he watched him. He had almost finished the bottle by the time Anders slowed and stood over him.

"Fine!" he snapped. "What is it? What do you want? In return for my apparent- **actual** \- betrayal?"

"You're relenting then."

"You shouldn't be the one looking so damned smug. It's either that or listen to Justice nag me about it for the rest of our life. He doesn't-" Anders paused, again listening to something in his head. "He can't leave a score unsettled and because he can't, I can't. So what do you want? To pour hot oil on my back? Pluck all the feathers from my coat? Drown a kitten in front of me? Just tell me what you want. Except if it's the last thing. Please don't drown a kitten in front of me."

"No kittens will be harmed in this endeavour."

"Then what?"

Fenris rose to his feet, dangling the wine bottle in his hand by its neck. Anders' eyes dropped to where the tunic was falling from his body. Anders took a half step into his personal space and delved his hands under the tunic. He passed his hands over Fenris' hips. Fenris' brands lit underneath them, reacting to the healing magic Anders soaked into his skin. A small smile played on Anders' lips. Fenris inclined his pelvis toward Anders as he swiped his thumbs over the line of his hipbones. The feathers of his coat irritated wherever they brushed, itching and tickling in equal measure. Fenris sank his hand deep into that ridiculous pelt and pushed Anders away from him, gently.

"No," he said.

The smile flickered from Ander's face, only for his bottom lip to jut out. Pouting? Was he actually pouting? A grown man and an abomination from the depths of the Void?

"Why not?" Anders asked. The bottom lip did not recede.

"Because that would only gratify you."

"Then what? What is it? Andraste's sweetly-scented bra cups, getting information out of you is like getting an apple turnover from Varric."

"I do not think you truly understand what you did wrong."

"Justice has been very demonstrative. I misled you. I lied to you. I made you act in a way that was contrary to your beliefs. I have been a very naughty Anders. So just give me my punishment so I can go home."

"You used me. You treated me like a thing."

"For a good cause- No. Shut up, Justice."

"You have no idea what it is like to be property."

"Is that what this is about? I know what it's like to be subjugated, Fenris. I was in the Circle for years-"

"No you do not!" Fenris' fingers tightened on the neck of the wine bottle. The glass squeaked, adding its own shriek to his words. "You have spoken fondly of the Circle. You have spoken of friends, of romances, of Templars who did little more than scold you for running away. No more than harsh words for blatantly, persistently flouting their rules. Have you ever once heard me talk fondly about my time as a slave?"

Anders raised a hand and rubbed the back of his head. He cast his gaze down to his shoes. "There are things about the Circle you don't know."

"And there are things about my time with Danarius that I will never tell you. Do not compare the Circle to that again."

"I didn't mean to remind you of that," Anders mumbled.

"I do not care what you meant. You will learn why you were wrong, since I can no more convince you of that I can convince you that mages need to be interred for their own good. For the next five days, I will treat you as a Magister would treat a slave. Then you will see what it's like to be truly oppressed."

"You are joking, right? That's totally disproportionate!"

"If your time in the Circle was such a hardship a week of this should be nothing to you. You don't even have to complete the full week. However, if you do not, you will concede that perhaps mages do not have things as bad as you profess."

"And if I do?"

"Then I will concede that the Circle is worse than I have assumed it to be."

"What about helping Hawke and the clinic and things?"

"I wouldn't expect you to let people die for this. When we are around the others, you may act normally and you may spend your nights in the clinic. However, at all other times you should come to me."

"I don't know why I'm even asking! This is stupid. I'm not going to do whatever you say because you overreacted."

"You could always apologise."

"I did what was right. Even if you can't see that."

"Is that so? Then stand up for your cause. Prove to me that you are not as soft and weak-willed as I think you are and perhaps I will believe that you are arguing from something more than lunacy."

"I thought it was myself I had to prove that to?"

"And here is your opportunity."

Anders stared at him defiantly for a few moments. Fenris held his gaze. He patted the wine bottle against his thigh, absently.

"I can handle it, you know," Anders said.

"Convince me."

"There should be a law against you having that voice. I'm sure there are harmonics in it that fizzle out rational thought- Damn it, Justice. I know! No- Yes- I'm doing it! Stop it. Right. If you would just- Let me talk to him! No. No! Don't you dare take over my body again! Fenris, I'll do it."

Fenris felt the wall against his shoulder blades. Apparently he'd backed away from that display without even realising it. Perhaps having a demon-possessed mage in his service wasn't the best idea, after all. Or a man who thought he was possessed by a spirit of Justice and whose sanity had left him a long time ago. Fenris examined him for any signs of glowing but he had calmed down now. He was staring at Fenris intently, wearing those doe eyes and another damned pout. Wasn't that how demons worked? They deceived you into thinking that they were harmless, they wore the faces of something you knew and trusted like the ones in Feynriel's dream. Madmen did the same. They wore placid faces and let the demons frollick in their head. Everyone knew Anders was not...right. Even Varric who kept the Templars and the Coterie from his door. Even _Hawke_.

"Didn't you hear me?" Anders said. "I said I'd do it."

"I heard. Give me your staff."

"Are we starting already?"

"We are. The staff."

"I thought that might be the first casualty. Here you go."

He handed it to Fenris by the end that the magic came out of. Fenris snatched it and flung the thing into his room. He half-expected it to go off like an un-sprung trap at the impact on the floor but all it did was roll.

"Next?"

"Take off your coat."

"Why?"

"You don't need it and I detest it. You are from the Anderfels, so Kirkwall's climate shouldn't bother you too much, especially with it as pleasant as it has been recently."

"You detest my coat? Why?"

"Slaves are not permitted to question orders. I will let it pass this time but you are to obey me without question, without thinking in future or I will have to punish you."

"All right, Fenris-"

"Master. In Tevinter, you would be struck, or worse, for addressing your Master by his name."

Anders grinned. "Yes, Master. That sounds awfully kinky. I'll remove my clothes right away, Master."

Fenris greeted that foolishness with nothing more than an impassive stare. He gestured at the coat again. Anders unfastened it. He removed it with an exaggerated care that Danarius would never have allowed. Slaves were not allowed to have possessions of their own. If Anders truly were a slave, he would never have had the opportunity to grow attached to such things. When he had finally divested himself of it, Fenris folded it over his forearm. He wore a thin shirt underneath, with crossed-over lace fastenings. Fenris took the coat from him and felt a tug of resistance as he pulled it away.

"I will keep this," Fenris said. "Until the end of the week. Give me the shirt as well."

"Fenris, I don't have any other clothes-"

Fenris smashed the wine bottle against the banister. Anders breath hitched as Fenris backed him against the wall and held its jagged edges to his temple. "What did I tell you? Question my orders," Fenris allowed the edges to scrape against Anders' temple, not breaking the skin but assuring him that it was a possibility. Anders' eyes were focused on it, to the point that mostly the whites showed. "And you will be punished."

"Yes, Master," Anders said, although the tone couldn't be less deferential.

Fenris allowed the broken bottle to drop. "Remove your shirt."

Anders began undoing the laces with a deliberate slowness that Fenris suspected was meant to rile him. Fenris watched his fingers work at the knots. How did a healer's fingers manage to get so cracked and callused? Shouldn't the healing magic he passed through them every day have healed that too? Fenris' own fingers twitched, itching to touch as Anders unfastened each tight criss-cross of his shirt, opening up gaps onto his chest. Downy hairs grew between his pectoral muscles. The light picked out russets, browns and blonds in them the way it picked up the dust motes in every room of his mansion. Anders gripped the hem of his loosened shirt and tugged it over his head inch by inch. Fenris raked his eyes across Anders' abdominal muscles, stretched taut by the gesture. Fenris held out his hand, until Anders placed the discarded shirt in it.

"There you are, Master," Anders said.

Fenris dropped his eyes. He didn't bother to be subtle as he followed the dusting of hair down from Anders' navel to his waistband. Anders' trousers were laced in the same criss-crossing manner as his shirt. "You're hard. Are you that well-trained already that my orders excite you?"

"Of course I'm hard. You're not wearing very much."

"Nor are you. Now."

Anders straightened, bringing himself up to his full height. A whole three or four inches taller than Fenris that he seemed to believe intimidated him. He met Fenris' eyes in obvious challenge. "Is there anything else I can do for you, Master?"

"Stay. I will put your clothes away somewhere safe."

Fenris entered his room in the mansion. That and the latrine were all that he used. He had dragged one of the unlocked chests Hawke had emptied into the room near the bed for storage. He extracted his armour from it and placed Anders' clothing inside. He placed the broken bottle down next to the chest as an afterthought. He was sure the temptation to use it on Anders would be too great and who knew what a heavily bleeding mage might resort to. Fenris pulled the door closed so that he could dress again. When he returned Anders was conversing again in a hushed voice with whatever it was that lived in his head. Fenris made sure his footfalls resounded across the landing as he approached. The layer of dust kicked up around them, eddying as it settled back down.

"Come," Fenris said.

"Where are we going?"

Fenris caught Anders' chin between thumb and forefinger. He pressed both deep into the soft skin, so hard that he could feel the shape of Anders' jawbone. He tapped the very sharpest edge of his gauntlet against Anders' cheek. There was a _whumph_ of ignited power as Anders' magic came to his aid, manifesting as flames on the tips of his fingers. Fenris phased his finger through the tissue of Anders' cheek and scraped the gauntlet's tip against Anders' gum, tracing the outline of one of his teeth.

"I could pull out your teeth," Fenris said, conversationally. "One by one. I could pluck them out at the root. I do not even need pliers with my abilities."

Anders extinguished the flames in his hand. Fenris withdrew the finger from Anders mouth and allowed it to tap, harmlessly, against the outside of his cheek again.

"You do not question my orders. Do you understand?"

"Yes, Master." Anders grinned at him, showing off all of his teeth and the thin rivulet of blood trickling from his gum and pooling in his lower lip. It made his face look very strange, squished in Fenris' hand as it was. "See? Service with a smile."

"Good. We will leave shortly but first you need to be instructed in proper slave decorum. When we are in public, people may address you but you must not address them back. I will answer them for you. Unless someone asks you your name," Fenris brought up his other hand and snipped the tie in Anders' hair by pinching it between the tips of his claws. It fell around Anders' chin. "Then you will say?"

"Anders."

"No. That is a name you have chosen for yourself and slaves are not allowed to make free choices. Felix. That is your name for tonight."

"Arcanum? Cat?"

"It suits you. You are selfish, mistrustful and covered in fur."

"May I ask where we are going, Master? And I and my teeth would like to point out that I intend to follow the order wherever it is but I would like to know, Master. Please. Master. Was that enough 'Masters'?"

"You will not be so incorrigible after a couple more days of this. We are going to the Rose."

"If Master is that lonely, I will be glad to accompany him."

"It may interest you to know that in Tevinter most human slaves are sex slaves. You would almost certainly be one, mage or not. The Magisters take whatever they desire and in a land where there is an abundance of elves, attractive humans are high on that list for rarity value alone."

"You can't sell my body, Fenris. That's a new rule. I'm making that a rule."

"You did at one point, didn't you? Doing 'the electricity thing' Isabela keeps trying to describe to me."

"That was different. It was fun then. It's not- It wouldn't be now. Justice! I KNOW. Stop it."

"I don't intend to sell your body."

"Then lead the way, Master."

*****

Ugh, Anders thought. The Rose.

At least the Pearl back in Denerim had the decency to look seedy. The Rose looked like the estate of a wealthy old spinster, albeit one decorated with horny drunks where there should be doilies and bear ornaments. It was crowded as it always was at night, with the darkness to cover anyone that might pass through its doors. Anders could feel gazes on him the way he'd feel caterpillars crawling over his skin. Not just him, he amended. There were a fair few attached to Fenris as well. Anders made sure to stand tall as he trailed along behind him. Fenris made a beeline for the bar. Hawke's Uncle was standing in his usual spot across from them. He tried to look like he hadn't noticed two of Hawke's friends. Anders would have smiled and waved at him if he thought Master Fenris would find it faintly amusing. Instead, he allowed the pretence to continue and watched Fenris order a large mug of ale for himself and some apple juice for Anders.

 _I still do not understand this establishment_ , Justice said.

Anders shook his head. This discussion only led to confusion and embarrasment on both their parts. Fenris handed Anders the juice, in a mug as big as the one that held his ale.

"Anyone looking will think it's cider," Fenris said. "Come. Sit."

Anders would have asked him why it was so important that it looked like he was drinking if not for Fenris' previous reactions to being questioned. Fenris chose a seat at the end of one of the long tables and Anders dropped into the one beside him. He moved to drink his juice and Fenris pushed the mug back down onto the tabletop.

"You must ask my permission to eat or drink anything," Fenris said.

"Yes, Master. I'll ask you for permission before I put _anything_ in my mouth," Anders said.

"You seem to be under the impression that I'm bothered by your crude sexual innuendo. I am not. If you debase yourself then that only leaves less work for me."

"May I drink my drink, Master?"

"You may take one sip. Not a gulp. A sip."

Anders frowned at the mug. How did you measure that anyway? He took what he thought was a sip but would probably be considered a gulp by dwarf standards. It seemed to meet elf sipping standards however, as Fenris did little more than drink his own drink. What was Fenris' stomach made out of anyway? A whole bottle of wine and now a whole mug of ale? And he got one of the serving girls to refill it. When Anders judged him to be about halfway through his third mug, a man took the seat across from them both.

"How much is your elf?" he asked.

"I am not for sale," Fenris said, before Anders could even react to that. "And I am not his."

"Ah, sorry. 'Thought you must have been a servant. 'Don't see many elves in here. Not elves that aren't staff in any case."

"Leave."

"All right, all right. I'm going. Honest mistake, lovie."

The man vacated the seat to look for better prospects.

"Lovie?" Fenris repeated.

 _Say not a word._

Anders almost felt insulted. He was sitting here shirtless and a random lech had went for _Fenris_? He went to take another drink before remembering that he wasn't allowed to without permission. "May I take another drink, Master?"

"No."

 _Don't question_ , Justice implored as Anders opened his mouth.

"May I ask you a question, Master?" Anders said.

"You just did."

"Another one?"

"You may."

"Why are we in the Blooming Rose? I didn't think it was somewhere you frequented."

"It's not. I have you and Isabela for those needs."

"Not Hawke?"

Anders was sure he was about to get punched for a moment. Instead, Fenris downed his mug of ale and got it filled again. "No more questions from you."

First it was no questioning orders. Now it was no questions at all. Maybe Fenris actually would sew up his lips like a Saarebas.

 _He would not._

Yes he would.

 _He would not._

"You are arguing again," Fenris said. "With the voice in your head."

"He's not just a voice."

"Stand up."

"Stand up?"

"Now."

Anders stood. Fenris crooked a gauntleted finger at him, summoning him closer. Anders placed his knee on the bit of wooden chair peeking out between Fenris' spread legs and held onto his shoulders. The jagged metal of Fenris' breastplate rasped over his bare chest as Anders leaned into him and spoke into his ear.

"What can I do for you, Master?" he asked.

Fenris gently pushed Anders away from him. He scrubbed at the ear Anders had talked into with his hand. "Don't touch me in public."

"Then why don't we go somewhere private, Master?"

"No. Stand by my chair."

 _Do as he says._

Anders turned his back on Fenris and tried not to look too put out. He stood behind Fenris' one man mission to embalm his liver in ale. Facing outward toward the room like this, Anders could see the various comings and goings. There were a couple of Templars passing through here despite their alleged vows, a couple of elven servants scurrying around and one or two whores that caught his eye. Lingering on any of the latter for too long caused Justice to grumble about fidelity in the back of his head, no matter how many times Anders told him that they weren't in a relationship and that even if they were, he owed nothing to Fenris, least of all faithfulness. Not that there had actually been anyone else. Justice would kick up such a fuss at the mere thought of it that it would probably be near impossible. It just wasn't worth it for a one night stand. For the most part. Maybe Hawke.

 _Hawke does not want us._

Anders let a flicker of irritation pass over his face. Hawke had already made that perfectly clear.

Anders forced himself to concentrate on the outside world when he noticed another man drawing near. He looked wealthy, wearing one of those silk jackets that the nobles all seemed to wear although more ruffled than Anders was used to seeing. By the sparkle in his eye and the mattress creases on his face he'd already spent a fair bit of coin tonight. Anders drew closer to Fenris' chair, so that the back of his legs rested against it.

"Why the glum face?" the man said.

Anders was about to answer with something uncomplimentary about the man's own face when he remembered that he wasn't allowed to speak to anyone but Fenris. Oh well, at least that gave him an easy out. The man was grinning in what he must have thought was a charming way but that actually just made him look like he had wind. Anders checked the laces of his pants in the ensuing silence. If they came undone here he wouldn't like to think about the reaction.

"What's your name?" the man asked.

Damn. Why wouldn't he clear off?

"And-Felix," Anders said. "Felix."

"Do you work here, Felix?"

Anders looked over his shoulder at Fenris. The strange man followed his gaze.

"Is that your husband?" he asked. "Boyfriend? If you two put on those couple shows I'd-"

"No I am not," Fenris said. He turned on his seat without standing up. "Far from it. I won Felix in a game of Wicked Grace. Don't be too concerned that he hasn't spoken to you. He's a little slow. He can repeat his name but not much else and sometimes he even gets that wrong. All of the physical faculties, however, seem to be in working order. Considering all of that, how much do you think he's worth?"

Anders was so busy trying to burn a hole in the centre of Fenris' forehead by sheer glare power that he almost didn't hear the last part.

"May I examine him?" the man said.

Anders turned the glare on him. What in the Void was this? Slavery was illegal in Kirkwall. This bastard had nothing to say about that?

"Feel free," Fenris said, turning his back again. "But do not damage him."

Anders visualised the fireball consuming the man as he ran his hands over Anders' chest. Anders' muscles felt like they were trying to climb off his bones to get away from it. The man's eyes kept dropping eagerly to Anders' crotch, an area usually hidden by the shirt Fenris had taken away from him.

"He looks quite strong," the man asked. "Could he be taught simple tasks?"

"By dint of great effort, I suppose he could," Fenris said. Anders could hear the smirk in his voice. That bastard.

The man peeled Anders' upper lip back with his thumb and peered at his teeth. Like a horse!

"He seems healthy too. He should get you about one hundred and fifty as a regular slave. You'd get quite a bit more for him if he was sold to work somewhere like here or to a private buyer. Depending on how talented he is at such things."

"I've no doubt he's experienced enough. He keeps ruining the furniture with his filthy habits. I was thinking about gelding him."

When Anders had won this little game he'd be sure to get Fenris back for that. He'd scrawl 'Fenris was here' on the Chantry's doors or something. Anders noticed that the man's hands were still on his chest.

"That would be a waste," the man said.

"Why? What would you do with him?"

"I'd get him out of those trousers to start with," the man's hands started stroking across Anders' chest again.

"And then?"

"I wouldn't like to say in polite company."

"I am not polite."

"And then..." the man's hands grew clammy against Anders' skin. "Can I see him from behind?"

"Turn around, Felix. Let the man see you."

Anders turned quickly, glad of the excuse to get those hands off him. He narrowed his eyes at Fenris as he came face to face with him again. He was idly tossing his mug from one hand to the other. Right. That was it. He was getting a fireball too. Two fireballs. Anders' had to force his magic back down as he felt the man's hands on his hips, mimicking a very intimate position. Anders could hear him heavy breathing. Why did things like this always happen whenever Anders entered the Rose? Did he really look that much like a whore?

"Have you ever slept with him yourself?" the man asked.

"Once or twice. I can't see it adding much to his value."

Oh, that was it. If Fenris thought he could humiliate him like this he was dead wrong. Anders turned around and grabbed two fistfuls of the man's shirt. He pulled him into him for a long, deep kiss. He tasted of wine, of women and of men. The piggy breathing was a little off-putting but that taste was enough to distract Anders. He hadn't allowed himself that much pleasure in a long, long while. _Justice_ hadn't allowed him. Anders made a needy noise and dragged the man harder against him. He could feel those clammy hands caressing his back. He wondered which whores the man had been with tonight. Who it was he was tasting. The Dalish woman with red hair down to her knees? The broad man who was nearly as tall as a Qunari?

 _We must stop this._

Anders shook his head without breaking the kiss. So what if the man was ugly and slobbering all over his face? He wasn't allowed and that was more than enough. He pulled back, sucking in breaths, when someone else tapped on his shoulder. He had expected Fenris, there to put a sharp end to his fun but it was another stranger. He was broad and armoured, almost attractive. Not that Anders' bed companions had always been the right side of attractive. He hadn't been exceptionally fussy in his younger days. Anders slung his arms around his shoulders and locked lips with him. This one tasted of stale ale and cigars. Another two things that Justice disapproved of.

 _We should not be doing this._

Anders didn't resist as he was passed to yet another man. This one skinny and tall. His moustache scratched at Anders' mouth. He tasted like nothing special. Not that it mattered with buzz of Justice's admonitions bouncing around the inside of his head like an angry bee. It was forbidden and that was all that mattered.

"Enough," Fenris said.

The word wasn't spoken in a particularly loud or threatening way but it was spoken with a hand on the hilt of a broadsword bigger than he was. Various hands and lips detached themselves from Anders. Fenris snatched his arm and dragged him outside.

"Are you really that desperately lonely?" Fenris barked.

"Says the man who's sleeping with the alleged 'desperately lonely' man and Isabella. Were you always this discerning or was it something you picked up on your travels?"

"You were kissing a Templar! You were letting him run his hands all over you."

"I let you."

"I am _not_ your friend, mage. Do not force me to protect you again."

"Protect me? You're the one who put me in that situation in the first place!"

"I would never coerce you into those kinds of acts. Something else in which you and I differ."

"I never coerced you into-"

"Ser Albert. Less than three hours ago. You know that I do not like to be touched at all and by strangers even less."

"I'm doing your stupid game, aren't I? Isn't that enough to make up for one mistake?"

"You still don't understand. This is not a game. This is a lesson you need to learn."

"And perhaps afterward I can teach you what it's like to be Tranquil? Then you'll finally see where I'm coming from!"

"I knew it. You can't even last one whole day as a slave. Go ahead then. Give up."

"I'm not giving up."

"Do you know what Danarius would have done to me if I'd spoken to him the way you just have?"

"No I don't. You won't tell me. But I am your slave, aren't I? So punish me, Master."

*****

Fenris watched Anders from the corner of his eye when they walked back to his mansion. He was silent again, which probably meant that he was inwardly having a conversation with Justice. The silence persisted even when they went through the mansion's doors and into his bedroom. Anders passed a brief sneer over the bedroll before he sat down on it. He shifted for a solid five minutes.

"What's the matter with you?" Fenris snapped.

"I can feel the floor tiles through this thing. How can you possibly sleep here when there's a whole upstairs full of four poster beds?"

"I tried one of those when I first came here. I could not get comfortable."

Anders shifted for a little while longer, then finally gave up, stood and sat on the edge of the table instead. The old wood gave a dangerous creak at his weight and he leapt off that too. He examined it fearfully and then took the edge to wobble it. It made a keening sound at each movement.

"Don't break my table," Fenris said.

"This leg's loose. Probably because the wood's rotten. Have you been letting the damp in here? It smells like you have."

Fenris heaved his sword from his back and leaned it against the wall in its usual spot. "It supports books and wine. That's all I need it for."

"You're going to catch something if you keep living like this."

"I have been fine thus far."

Anders distanced himself from the table, with one last suspicious glance back at it, then leaned against the wall. Plaster came loose and crumbled into his hair. He swore and began picking it out. Fenris watched him, bemused.

"I'm sorry the accommodation is not to your liking," Fenris said. "Perhaps you grew too used to being pampered at the Circle."

"Hardly. You've seen my clinic. 'Not exactly the lap of luxury but it is at least clean."

Fenris undid the catches on his armour and bent down to put the breastplate and gauntlets away. He heard Anders approach him, creaking across the floor without any guile at all. Anders leaned over him, front flush against his back. Fenris fought the urge to sink back into him. He was a warm weight in the drafty mansion whose stones retained the cold even in the height of summer. The down across his chest was soft against Fenris' smooth back. Anders ran his palms across the planes of Fenris' stomach.

"Aren't you going to punish me, Master?" Anders asked.

Fenris' eyelids fluttered at the feel of his breath ghosting across the back of his neck. His lyrium markings didn't even stir in all the places Anders met them. Fenris was still certain that was some kind of magic, whatever Anders said, but perhaps not the dangerous kind. He was a healer first and foremost. A healer with busy hands. He was already cupping Fenris' crotch and growing hard against Fenris' backside. He pressed open-mouthed kisses into the skin beneath the nape of Fenris' neck. Each fevered inhalation caused the short tuft of hairs there to ripple.

"No!" Fenris said. He twisted out of Anders' grip, turned and tapped Anders sharply on the nose. "Bad Felix!"

Anders blinked in surprise. "Is my punishment going to be getting sprayed with a bottle of water? Because you know that won't work on me, right?"

"Don't be foolish and don't touch me like that again. There will be no sex while you're my slave."

"No sex? No sex at all?"

"I am not comfortable having sex with you while you're obliged to follow my orders, even as thoroughly bad at that as you are."

"Does this apply to sex acts or just regular sex?"

"All of it."

"But you said that humans would be sex slaves in Tevinter. Are you sure that you don't want to have a little bit of sex?"

"I'm sure! Whatever else Danarius was, he was not a rapist and I will not force myself upon you."

"Force yourself? I'm more than willing! Please, Fen- Master?"

"No. Be quiet. Go and get my bath from the room two doors down from this one on the right."

Fenris waited until Anders had stamped out of the room, before steadying himself against the wall while his stomach heaved. He could not, would not, even entertain the thought of having sex with someone who screamed Master rather than his name. Even if he had never been used for that purpose, he was all too aware of the existence of that type of slave. The threat of being sold into such work had often loomed over him and Danarius was quick to remind him of hitherto unknown duties that might fall to him should that ever become the case. He talked of a gamut of sexual debasement that Fenris was sure would erase all that he was, as surely as the branding had erased the memories of his past life. _Remain useful to me, my Little Wolf, and you will never have to know these things firsthand._

Fenris straightened as the resonant sound of a tin bath hitting the floor tiles signaled Anders' approach. Anders dragged it inside the room, grumbling under his breath. Fenris wondered if the grumbling was directed at him or at Justice. It continued as he let the bath settle in the centre of the room.

"Fill it," Fenris said.

That distracted him enough to silence him. Anders filled the bath with ice and then melted it with a fireball or two. When it was full almost to the brim, Anders held the bath by both sides and pressed another couple of fireballs into it until the water steamed. Fenris probably should have bristled at the blatant use of magic but it saved gathering water from elsewhere.

"Get in," Fenris said.

"Me?"

"I thought I was clear about your not questioning my orders."

"I'm not," Anders said, standing so that he could toe off his shoes. He pulled a face as his feet sank into the layer of dirt. "I just thought I was drawing it for you, that's all."

"You're drawing it for both of us. Now hurry up."

Anders paused in the process of unlacing his pants. "Is this my punishment? You're going to slide all over me wet and naked while I know I can't have sex with you?"

"No, mage. It's a bath."

Fenris' eyes fell to the halfway undone laces. He wondered why Varric called Anders Blondie, when there were so many other colours in his hair. Fenris scraped his teeth over his lower lip as Anders undid the trousers completely. He eyed the base of Anders' cock. Anders caught the look. "I think you have a human fetish."

"Don't be absurd."

"Me, Isabela, Hawke and you're always staring at my body hair. You nuzzle it when we have sex too."

"I have never nuzzled anything in my life."

Anders gave him one of his foolish grins and stripped off his trousers and small clothes. He climbed into the bath without any further dithering. Fenris retrieved a bar of soap from his things. Anders was bigger than him, in stature at least, and had to draw his knees up a little to fit in the bath. He watched Fenris as intently as if he were a real cat and Fenris was a man-sized saucer of milk.

"Don't watch me undress," Fenris said.

"You watched me undress."

"I am your Master. It's unfair like that."

"Fine." Anders shifted his gaze to his lap.

Fenris took off his leggings and sank into the bath himself. He had to sit in Anders lap to do it and Anders only compounded matters by wrapping his arms around Fenris' waist. Fenris tried to shrug him off but it proved impossible in such a small space.

"You realise it's completely impossible for me to think of anything other than sex with you like this," Anders said.

"Keep it to yourself," Fenris said.

Anders was fully hard underneath him, making small noises of complaint whenever Fenris moved in a way that brought them into closer contact. Fenris' own cock was half-hard, responding to the touch of wet skin on wet skin even as he willed it not to. Fenris shook his head in silent admonishment of it. He scrubbed along his forearms. The acerbic soap on his lyrium markings was like rubbing salt into a cut but he never felt clean with only water. He blanched openly, assured that Anders was far too distracted by the situation in his lap to notice. He scrubbed the bar of soap over his chest and stomach, then down to where the most sensitive markings were. His cock softened at the sudden surge of agony and he flared briefly. When the moment was over, Anders was stroking his chest, kissing the space between his shoulder blades, whispering soothing words into his ear. Of all the things Fenris hated about Anders, he hated that the most. He was too soft, too tender and he still wanted to keep up the pretense of intimacy after all this time.

"I told you not to touch me like that!" Fenris snapped.

"You yelped," Anders said, and he had the audacity to sound hurt.

"Shut up."

Anders placed his hand over Fenris' and took the soap from his hand. "You're hurting yourself because you're scrubbing like you're trying to sand some balsa wood," Anders said. He moved the soap over Fenris' back in faint, circular motions that didn't even brush his markings. "I don't know how you didn't break the skin."

"Shut up."

"You need to take better care of yourself."

Fenris clambered out of the bath and tossed it over, spilling the water and a wet, naked and very confused Anders out onto the floor on his front. Anders tried to scramble up but the soap still half-gripped in his palm made him slip and _thwack_ his head against the tiles. Fenris didn't wait for him to recover. He kneeled down next to him and pulled him up by his hair. He spun him around by it and tossed him down onto the bedroll, where he landed on his back with his limbs flailing like an upturned beetle. Fenris snatched the soap from the floor. He crossed the room in a couple of furious steps and kneeled down heavily on Anders' stomach. He plugged Anders' nose until his eyes streamed and he was forced to take one deep breath.

Fenris pinched his nose tighter and shoved the bar of soap into his open mouth. Anders' eyes flared as he choked on the taste of Fenris' filth and the soap itself. His hands shoved at Fenris' shoulders, with increasing force and increasing franticness. Froth and drool spilled down his chin as his eyes welled with more tears and his throat spasmed. Fenris crushed the bit of soap that wasn't wedged in Anders' mouth into mulch and forced that inside too. Anders tossed his head from side to side, trying to dislodge either of Fenris' hands even as he gagged. Fenris pressed his palm firmly over his mouth when he tried to spit the soap and watched his eyes. They were growing half-lidded. The hands scrabbling against his chest were losing force and urgency. Fenris released him just as they were about to fall away.

Anders threw himself onto shaking hands and knees, hacking and coughing as he spat out what remained of the soap in his mouth. He retched twice but managed not to throw up on Fenris' floor before getting unsurely to his feet.

"You really are a wild animal, aren't you?" he yelled, though his voice was strained and hoarse.

"No. I am a Master punishing an errant slave."

Anders wiped his mouth with the back of his hand. "So that gives you leave to try and kill me?"

"Yes. In Tevinter slaves are killed by their Masters all the time."

Anders shoulders lost some of their tension as the fury left him. "What? You really were trying to kill me?"

"Would you believe me if I said no?"

"Justice does. I still say I know you a lot better than he does."

"You do not know me at all, mage. Leave. Come back when you're free tomorrow."

Anders snatched his clothing from the floor and put it on without even drying himself. "Yes, Master," he snarled.

*****

Fenris was drinking again when Anders returned to the mansion the next day. Did he ever do anything else when he wasn't with Hawke? The way he kept his mansion certainly didn't hint at any other hobbies. This wine was even classier than the last, it just said 'Wine' in large printed letters and probably had a vintage of about three days in a used sock. Even so, Anders' mouth watered at the prospect. He could have used a drink yesterday. It had taken about a gallon of water, a meal and several hours of cleaning his teeth before the taste of soap was gone from his mouth. And several of patients had commented on how he looked like he was sucking on a lemon. Many more of his patients had commented on his sudden proclivity for shirtlessness. Some of them with embarrassment, some of them with confusion and the odd few with a leer. Maker. He never wanted to see a toothless old lady leer at him again.

Fenris didn't even look up. He was sitting at his table, poring over what looked like a child's storybook with one hand and the bottle of 'Wine' wine in the other.

Anders looked at the floor, which was at least a little cleaner after the bath water had hit it last night. The bath still lay upturned on it. Anders righted it, making sure to use enough force to make it clang against the tiles. Fenris acknowledged him with only the barest glance and kept drinking.

"I'm here, Master," Anders said, after a few more moments of this.

"I noticed."

 _We must be patient._

"Patient! I have been patient all night. I'm sick of your damned pro-Fenris agenda! Why can't you see him for what he is?"

Fenris was looking at him now with tack-sharp interest and the wine halfway to his lips. Ah. Did he say that out loud? Fenris stared at him for a few moments, then shook his head and returned to his book. Anders launched a small fireball at Fenris' wine. The impact of it smashed the bottle and the flames consumed every last vapour of alcohol. Fenris dropped it with a curse, so the neck smashed against the table too and the flames caught the book. He grabbed his bedroll and patted it out with it, or would have, had Anders not sent another small fireball forth to set that alight as well. Fenris leapt back from the small conflagration.

"Put it out!" he yelled.

Anders let the flames spread to the table before he froze it. The old wood was singed and the rot took care of the rest, it collapsed in on itself and left a useless pile of kindling. Fenris turned a glare on him that was like a fireball of his own. Then he wa flashing lightning spell blue and moving faster than Anders could track. He grabbed Anders by the neck, hard enough to leave finger-length bruises on his throat. His mouth was half open, lips peeled back to reveal his teeth and growling like the beast he was. Anders threw his hands up to grab at Fenris' breastplate and let loose another fireball until the metal grew molten under his hands and melted. Fenris wasn't quite fast enough to phase. The armour stuck to his skin like glue until the air was thick with smoke and the smell of burning flesh.

Fenris' fingers loosened and he fell away, coughing and gasping. Anders kicked him onto his front and undid the catches of his armour. He pulled it away, ripping the skin with it. He tossed the breastplate, now as malformed as an abomination, aside. He pushed Fenris onto his back again. The burns were as bad as he'd ever seen in the clinic, all across Fenris' chest and crawling up to his left shoulder. It was amazing how easy it was to make such a beautiful body into something grotesque, charred and seeping with the occasional glint of metal that had stayed inside.

 _We must stop this._

"Shut up, Justice."

Anders kneeled down beside Fenris. He was barely-conscious. He didn't even try to resist as Anders took his chin in his hand. Anders slapped his cheeks until he opened his eyes and focused on him.

"Order me to heal you," Anders said.

Fenris' raised his hands to Anders'. "Please..." he croaked.

"Please what?"

"Justice?"

Anders tried to hold Justice back but he could no more do that than Justice could ignore the plea. Justice had taken over _his_ body and began pumping _his_ healing magic into Fenris before he could even voice a protest. Anders raged against the inside of his own head as he felt the shared sensation of Fenris' skin, craggy with burns and seeping with pus, gradually becoming smooth under his palm. Justice only relinquished control when the job was completely done. Just in time for Anders to be sent sprawling backward by the punch Fenris threw under his chin.

Fenris left it at that, however, and simply stood and went to retrieve his armour. He 'tskkk'ed at the state of it. Anders got to his feet and dusted off his trousers with his hands.

"If you really were a slave, you would be killed or worse for that," Fenris said.

"Or worse? They don't make slaves Tranquil, do they?" Anders said.

Fenris discarded the armour with a clatter. "They do not do the Rite of Tranquility but the Magisters are always willing to be imaginative with their cruelty."

"Unlike you, who wasted a perfectly good bar of soap."

"You would not be so lucky as to have your mouth cleaned out with soap in Tevinter. It would be sealed with hot wax or by having your tongue cut out, should the Magisters not decide your mouth could be put to better uses."

"It sounds like you've been contemplating some of those better uses yourself."

Fenris turned back to face him. "I have no need to contemplate it. If I want to fuck you, all I need do is pass a glance your way."

"You weren't exactly that hard to get yourself."

Fenris stared at him for a moment, then chuckled. "You are the worst slave I have ever seen."

"And you're a terrible Master. If all of the Magisters are this lax, I'm struggling to see how it took you so long to escape."

"What was the worst thing that ever happened to you in the Circle, Anders?"

Justice stirred as memories flitted across Anders' mind. "I don't have to tell you that."

"Actually, you do."

"I won't."

Fenris crossed the room, much more slowly than he had before. Anders could see each muscle rolling under his skin as he stalked toward him. Each pure white lyrium brand bunching and stretching with the movement. Fenris brushed his knuckles over Anders' stubble and his body, much more of a slave than he ever would be, reacted to even that small touch. He stared dumbly at Fenris' lower lip. It needed to be _bitten_ as it had been dozens of times before, nipped between Anders' teeth until he could taste Fenris' blood.

"Obedient slaves are sometimes rewarded," Fenris said.

Anders shut his mouth, suddenly aware that it had been gaping open. "That's it? I injure you severely and now you're talking about rewarding me?"

"I want to know what you think is worse than slavery."

"Does it matter? You're not going to accept that the Circle's anything but a necessary evil, no matter what I tell you."

"No, it doesn't matter but if you tell me, I will let you choose your own reward."

"You said slaves weren't allowed any free choices."

"It's not a free choice. It's one I am letting you make. Once."

Anders wondered if he could get away with taking a kiss but thought better of it. "It's hard to distinguish one bad thing from another. My Harrowing was quite bad. They all expected me to fail and the Templars were ready and waiting to kill me when I returned to myself. It took some persuading for them not to. Then there were all the new children, every day they'd bring new little girls and boys in there already knowing that some of them were far too troublesome and that they'd have to be made Tranquil eventually. The worst was discovering some of the abuse that went on. I wasn't... I wasn't like I am now when I was there. I was selfish and thrill seeking. I didn't look for anything that would perturb me but I still saw the signs. Templars going into private quarters and locking the doors behind them. Senior mages twitching when certain Templars got near them. It happened much more rarely than it seems to in the Gallows but we had our own Ser Alriks and Ser Karrases."

"What happened to them?"

"Knight Commander Greagoir dealt with them when he found out. Either expelling them as lyrium-addled simpletons or putting them to the sword."

"So your Knight Commander was a good man? A man who tried to protect you even from those underneath him?"

"As good as a man with so much power over others could be."

"The Archon says only this about abusing slaves, 'Make sure that they are your own.'"

"Does it matter whether it was allowed or not? It still happened and it happened because people who aren't mages had power over them!"

"Mages are born with power over other people."

"No more than the naturally strong or intelligent. Anyway, this usually goes on all day and I want my reward."

"Ask for it then."

"I want you to tell me the worst thing Danarius ever made you do."

Fenris pursed his lips and was silent for so long that Anders was sure he was going to go back on his word. He dipped his head when he finally spoke.

"Kill," he said.

"Kill what?"

"A family. He tracked down an assassination attempt to another Magister who was desperate for power. He had me kill his children first and then his pregnant wife. He made sure that I stabbed her in the stomach. He wanted to see her eyes, so that he could see the knowledge that she had lost that child as well in them. The man surrendered to the blade. He did not want to live. That was where Danarius had me stay my hand. He challenged the man to a duel, knowing that he didn't have the will to defeat him and that any of his belongings would pass to him."

Anders looked away. "You didn't have to though, did you?"

"You say that because you have not followed orders your whole life. The markings were like being born anew and everything after that was servitude. You say that you were imprisoned but you still do not truly understand the value of being free."

"Why would you be fond of a man who made you do things like that?"

"What are you talking about?"

"Danarius said 'you were quite fond of me once', when he came to recapture you. Why would you be fond of him if he was so cruel?"

"He was the only person I knew. Evil but also my only source of comfort."

Anders raised his eyebrows. "He... Comforted you?"

"You've asked far too many questions already."

"How silly of me. Please don't put soap in my mouth again, Master."

"Undress."

Fenris walked away from him and opened the storage chest. Anders' coat was still in there, he noticed, and unharmed but for some dust. Anders considered disobeying for a moment but there wasn't any point this time. Fenris had seen him naked more times than he cared to count and in far more explicit positions than this, while he begged for him with his body and his mouth like one of the Rose's bronze whores. He stripped off just as he had yesterday and tried to find his clothes somewhere that wasn't covered in dust. When he finally settled on the edge of the ruined table, Fenris was behind him.

"Onto your hands and knees," Fenris said, into the shell of Anders' ear with that toe-curling voice of his.

His body was obeying before his mind had even made sense of it. He felt the touch of leather on the back of his neck and then against the bruises that he hadn't had a chance to heal on his throat, when Fenris closed the collar around him.

"Danarius placed a gilded collar on me and told me it was a gift," Fenris said. "But I won't tell the same lie to you. This is a Mabari collar, treated with flea powder and bought for a single bronze in Lowtown and it is not a gift. It is a symbol of my dominion over you."

Anders touched his fingers to the buckle. He could easily undo it but he was sure Fenris would see that as far more of a victory than collaring him was. He didn't even protest when Fenris clipped a lead to the collar.

"Danarius held me on a lead like a Saarebaas. I wonder if you would have found that more or less insulting than being leashed like a dog."

"It would have been more appropriate the other way around. I'm a mage and you were his bitch."

"If you're going to continue to snap, I acquired a muzzle as well."

 _Do not respond._

"Good boy," Fenris said. "Now walk."

Anders attempted to stand but Fenris pushed him down by his shoulder.

"Walk like a Mabari."

Anders 'walked'. He crawled across the floor on his hands and knees, covering his palms and calves in dirt. Fenris trailed after him, holding the lead loosely. Anders continued crawling until he reached the opposite wall. The collar rubbed at his neck. The flea powder itched more than he imagined fleas ever would. He could feel a welt growing against his skin that would give the impression of being collared even when he wasn't wearing it. Anders stopped once and felt the lead grow taught as Fenris tugged on it. While not quite a choke chain, it still hurt. He continued to the opposite wall and stopped. Fenris yanked on the lead again, encouraging him to turn. Anders went with the tug. Fenris walked him through the room's doorway and down the stairs, which proved a challenge. This low to the ground and tackling them at a crawl, Anders had vertigo like he'd never had before. His hands slipped a couple of times and he was only saved from a tumble by Fenris pulling sharply on his lead. He reached the bottom shaking.

Fenris kneeled down next to him with the lead still wrapped around his hand. He ran his fingers through Anders' hair, from his hairline to where it still fell loose around his shoulders. Anders knew the touch was meant to make him feel like a dog with its tail between its legs being petted by its master but he couldn't help rubbing his head against Fenris' palms, even if it did snag hair in his gauntlets.

"Why do you enjoy this?" Fenris asked.

"I'm supposed to be a dog, aren't I? Dogs are needy like that. Unlike cats, who are beholden to no man. Dogs also bite."

"What are-?"

Anders manhandled Fenris onto his front, using all of his strength and a great deal of force magic. He pulled down Fenris' leggings to his thighs and thanked the Maker for his habit of going commando. The sudden proximity of massive amounts of glowing, reacting lyrium sent Justice into gibbers. Anders sank his teeth into Fenris' exposed backside. They hit one of the lyrium veins imbued there. It tingled on his tongue and through his skull though not as much as the half-snarl, half-whimper Fenris let out. There was really no other response to that than to chomp down harder. Fenris thrashed underneath him, hand still jerking on the leash, before finally recomposing himself enough to let go and phase out of the grip of Anders' teeth. He jolted forward, on his hands and knees the way Anders had crawled for him. There was blood on his rump where Anders had managed to break the skin. A couple of bright droplets of lyrium seeped out from his teeth marks.

Anders pounced on him when he tried to pull up his leggings. Fenris fought back this time and Anders had to wrestle him onto his back, snarling and swiping for whatever part of Anders he could grab. Sometimes their sex was barely distinguishable from their fights and Fenris' body knew it. He stilled when Anders lay on top of him as hard as Anders was. Anders still held Fenris's wrists in both hand and he was glowing lantern bright and sweating. His chest rose and fell in time with his rapid, furious breaths. His hair was ruffled, half-swept over his brow and the rest disheveled around his face.

"You look very fetching like that, Master," Anders said. His own back was coated in a layer of dust and grime from those brief moments where Fenris had him pinned.

"Shut your mouth, mage," he said. "Unless you'd like me to stop going easy on you."

Anders lowered his head and bit Fenris' lip like he'd been longing to before. Fenris let his mouth fall open, inviting Anders to take a rough kiss. The wine he'd been drinking lingered in his mouth. It was foul, as sour as vinegar and equally as enjoyable to lick. Anders broke the kiss and dipped his tongue into Fenris' clavicle. The warm skin there tasted better. Fenris curled his gauntleted fingers over Anders' shoulders, making sure that the points sunk under his skin like he always did. Anders sent electricity through himself, so that it shocked him into loosening them. He released Fenris' wrists and licked down Fenris' body, over the ridges of muscles and lyrium bands until he reached the head of Fenris' cock. The lead still attached to his collar came with him, snaking over Fenris' skin. Fenris caught it in one hand.

"Anders," he said, giving it a sharp tug. "Can't."

"Can't what?" Anders said, making sure that his lips brushed over the head of Fenris' cock. It was already wet with precome.

"Anders..."

"You're not making any sense, Master."

Fenris jerked on the lead again, hard enough to make Anders splutter. "Not Master."

Anders closed his lips over the head of Fenris' cock. Fenris' arched, lifting his hips from the floor and Anders' drew back, letting it pop back out of his mouth. His saliva glistened on the tip. "I await your orders, Master."

"Don't," Fenris panted. "Please? Want..."

Anders lay the side of his face on Fenris' hip. "I'm not going to do a thing unless you order me to."

Anders caught the lead as Fenris yanked it this time and seared through it with fire. Fenris continued to tug at it, quite unaware there was nothing on the end for a few minutes until the realisation filtered through.

"Order me to suck your cock, Master."

Fenris' eyes flew open wide. "No!" he said. He kicked Anders off him and clambered to his feet. He pulled up his leggings and looked around wild-eyed. "I told you not to do this. I told you-!"

He swallowed the rest of that sentence and seemed to decide words were not enough. He dropped the broken end of the leash and grabbed Anders by the collar itself.

"The Templars seemed to think that solitary confinement was best for you," he said. "I shall follow their example."

He opened the door under the stairs. The cupboard was so full of bric-a-brac from the many uninhabited rooms that there was barely room from a cat, let alone a fully grown man. That didn't deter Fenris. He grabbed one of the stacked objects and let the ensuing landslide clear a space. He shoved Anders inside, with various objects still shifting and toppling around him. Something landed on his head.

"Wait!" Anders said.

Fenris slammed the door shut and left him in pitch darkness. The sounds of barricading came from the other side. The mess settled around and on top of him, pinning him there like quicklime. Anders raised a hand and tried for at least a bit of light. Nothing happened.

 _No magic_ , Justice said. _We must accept out punishment gracefully._

Grace be damned! Anders banged both hands on the door. Something else hit off his head. Something wet and slimy fell down his back. Something was poking him in the thigh. He could feel jagged edges and unpleasant textures all over his naked skin. His own heartbeat was loud in his ears. His breathing was even harder. In the crowded darkness, he felt the same grip of terror as he felt in the middle of his dreams. The call of the deep. The presence of Darkspawn rumbling the walls. Every brush felt like their cold hands. Every bite of discarded furniture like their taint-carrying teeth. He thought he was making noises, as pathetic and nonsensical as those of a wounded Bronto.

 _We must be calm._

"Fenris!" Anders managed.

"I will not let you out," Fenris said. "I suggest you try to get some sleep."

*****

Fenris stumbled down the stairs. Anders' wails hadn't been conducive to a good night's sleep to begin with and then he'd gotten up a few times and almost made it to the stairs before sternly reminding himself of the reason he'd locked Anders in there in the first place. He'd finally managed to sleep when first light was seeping in through the windows and woke shortly after to silence. He rubbed his eyes with the heel of his hand, let out a huge yawn and approached the cupboard. Not silence then. There was scratching on the other side of the door and something under Anders' breath, though too quiet for Fenris to tell whether it was a whimper or a threat. Fenris pulled the door open and Anders spilled out, along with half the contents of the cupboard.

Anders curled up. He was shaking from head to toe. Sweat had plastered his hair to his scalp. There were bruises on his knuckles where he'd hammered against the door and on his shins, minor cuts and scrapes on the rest of his body where he'd thrashed around in the confined space full of clutter. His breaths were short and sharp and occasionally they masked whimpers. The collar was still looped around his neck. He hadn't even attempted to remove it.

Fenris supposed he should feel gratified as he stood over him but he didn't. He nudged Anders with his foot, which only caused him to curl tighter in on himself. Fenris scooped him up into his arms. He lashed out but Fenris simply let the punches land. There was no energy in them and, for once, they weren't personal. Anders was elsewhere. Fenris carried him into one of the other rooms and set him down on the massive bed in it. His weight raised another cloud of dust but he was in no fit state to complain about the cleanliness. That and Fenris suspected he wasn't the only one who hadn't slept last night.

Fenris climbed onto the bed behind him. He stroked his hair in the way that had made him rub against him yesterday, until finally his laboured breathing gave way to snores. Fenris settled in next to him but gave up on catching any more sleep himself when Anders screamed himself hoarse even in his dreams. Fenris remained with him through the couple of hours of fitful sleep and until he started awake. His breath hitched for a few moments and then evened out.

"Fenris?" he said.

"I'm here."

"I suppose you're happy now."

"Am I?"

"You finally found a way to make me behave. That's what you wanted, isn't it?"

Fenris sighed. He might have been angry if it wasn't for the fact that Anders was still trembling. All of this time spent together, making awkward conversation and rutting and Anders still didn't know him at all. "I don't want to continue this anymore."

"Just when you're finally starting to act like a real Magister? Why?"

"You know very well that that's why. I would be surprised if you hadn't known that from the start. You never play any game that you know you can't win."

"I lose at cards to Varric and Isabela almost daily."

"Knowing full well that they'll never take your coin off you and that when they know that the clinic is under-stocked they will let you win."

"I don't want to argue with you right now, Fenris."

Anders kept his face turned away from Fenris, buried in the dusty mattress. Fenris wondered if he should leave. Showing this kind of vulnerability in front of Fenris was likely a far greater torture than being locked in the closet had been.

"Why didn't Justice take over your body?" Fenris asked, curious despite himself.

"Because he's not Justice and he hasn't been for a long time. He saw that there was no immediate threat and that I had committed a wrong which I had to be punished for. That's how he works."

"Does that mean I should now be punished for this?"

"No. They cancel each other out so you have a clean slate for now. It's just as well he thinks that way, otherwise we'd never get anything done."

Fenris frowned at Anders' hunched back. Perhaps this endeavour was doomed from the outset. Anders already had a master who was bound to him more thoroughly than any chain could ever bind Fenris to Danarius. Spirit indeed. Where was the justice in that?

"You're not going to concede, are you?" Anders asked.

"Hm?"

"The terms of the bet. You've ended it. You were supposed to concede that the Circle is worse than you thought."

"If it led you to play host to something that seems to be devoted entirely to your misery, then perhaps it is."

"He's not so bad, once you get to know him. Just unworldly. And he sympathises with you. And... I do too. I don't think slavery is right but nor do most people. Whereas most people think the Circle is for the mages' own good."

"Including myself."

"Justice thinks you can still be convinced. It's good for us to disagree on things. 'Keeps us separate from time to time."

"And it has nothing to do with the lyrium etched into every part of my body?"

"He says it doesn't. I'm skeptical."

Anders pushed himself up into a sitting position, then stood and walked out of the door. He kept his back turned to him the whole route. Fenris gave him a little while before following. He was dressed by the time he caught up with him. He had even taken the liberty of retrieving his coat and staff.

"You could have used the bath," Fenris said.

"I'll bathe at the clinic," Anders said. "I've been away from it far too long as it is."

Anders attempted to walk past him. Fenris blocked the door. "Aren't you forgetting something?"

"A kiss goodbye?"

"You're still wearing the collar."

"The what?" Anders raised his hand to his neck. "Oh. So I am."

Fenris held his hand out for it but Anders didn't move to unfasten it.

"I'll keep it on until I get home," he said. "It hides the bruises."

"You can heal the bruises before you leave."

"I'm tired... I don't think I have enough mana..."

"You've just slept."

"And you saw how refreshing that was! Anyway, I need to conserve it for my patients not waste it on a cosmetic injury. You're still in my way. I told you I need to get back to the clinic."

"Why are you trying to keep the collar?"

"It's the only thing you've ever given me."

"Anders-"

"No, it's not like that. I don't intend to sniff it or put it on a little Fenris shrine or anything. I need things that are mine. I need things that Justice doesn't understand because if I don't have them, there's less and less of both of us."

Fenris moved aside. "I'm not sure I understand it either but you are welcome to it, so long as you don't wear it front of me."

Anders smiled a genuine smile of the kind that were usually reserved for Hawke. "Thank you, Fenris."

 **The End**


End file.
